Too Late, Alpha: I Left With Our Son

I, Cynthia Hartwell, was Alpha Killian Ashford's fated mate—and the daughter of the man who had murdered his father.

He had crushed my dignity beneath his heel and sneered, "Behave, and I'll save your mother."

To keep her alive, I had become a slave. Pregnant, I drank burning liquor and played the fool to amuse his new favorite.

Only at the banquet did I learn the truth—my mother had been thrown into Blackfield Pit three months ago.

My so-called atonement had never been mercy. It had been his revenge, carefully staged.

......

"Move it! What, you got no energy? Traitor's brat!"

A grease-stained coin slammed into the corner of my eye. Blood ran down instantly.

I didn't even wipe it away. Like a stray dog scrambling for scraps, I lunged forward and clutched the coin tight in my palm.

In Gutterdeep, that single coin meant one more second of life for my mother at Crownwell Royal Hospital.

A year earlier, my father had launched a rebellion and brutally killed Killian's father, the former Alpha.

When the rebellion failed, my father was executed.

I should have followed him to the gallows. Instead, Killian spared me.

Once, I had been the love he cradled like something too precious to bruise.

Now, I was the "traitor's daughter," a living outlet for his hatred.

My mother, Serena Hartwell, gravely wounded during the rebellion, lay in the most luxurious ICU in the territory.

Killian had kept her there, imprisoned by tubes and machines, sustained by costly medication.

"Letting her die would be too easy," he had said. "I'll keep her alive so you can spend your whole life crawling for forgiveness."

To pay the crushing hospital bills, I had no choice but to sell what little dignity I had left.

"Spin for me!"

A filthy hand shot out from the crowd, grabbing for my ankle.

I barely had time to flinch before the bar doors exploded inward. The Rogue who tried to touch me didn't even get to scream—his hand was crushed under the heel of a polished shoe.

A suffocating Alpha aura flooded the entire room.

My blood froze.

It was him.

Killian.

He was the king of this territory, the son of the man my father had killed—and the man I had loved for ten long years.

Through the filthy air, those eyes that had once brimmed with love—eyes that had sworn to protect me for life—now pinned me in place like a rusted blade driven through flesh.

Rage churned within them, violent and endless. Beneath it flickered something else—an indelible possessiveness that even he found shameful.

And that only made him hate me more.

"Get down."

The absolute pressure of an Alpha crashed down.

My knees gave out before I could resist, and I collapsed at the edge of the stage.

Killian shot out his hand and seized my chin.

"Cynthia… look at me."

The gesture was painfully familiar. Three years ago, beneath a tree, he had lifted my face just like that before kissing me with impossible tenderness.

The next second, pain snapped me back to reality.

"Cynthia, the blood of a murderer runs through your veins. The scent of it makes me sick."

His eyes were streaked with red.

"Look at me! When your father killed mine, did he ever imagine you'd end up kneeling at my feet, begging to survive?"

The Alpha pressure bore down again, suffocating and merciless.

"Mr. Ashford," I swallowed the metallic taste flooding my mouth, "as long as my mother lives, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

Killian let out a cold laugh, flung my face aside, and pulled out a handkerchief to scrub his fingers as if he'd touched something filthy.

"You think flaunting yourself in a dump like this will atone for anything? The blood debt your father owes could never be repaid, not even in ten lifetimes."

He turned and picked up a bottle of the cheap liquor the Rogues favored.

"If you want that accomplice of a mother to keep breathing at Crownwell Royal Hospital, show me how sincere you are."

He slammed the bottle onto the floor in front of me. Acrid liquor splashed across my skin.

"Drink it. Every drop."

I stared at the bottle in horror, instinctively shielding my lower abdomen as I stumbled back.

There was a life growing inside me.

That night… during his rut, when he had lost control and tormented me while crying out my name, he had left this unintended consequence behind.

The witch's potion had masked the child's scent.

But the liquor was far too strong.

It could kill this fragile little life.

"No… Killian, it's too strong. I can't drink that…"

"Can't?" Killian took out his phone. On the screen was the live surveillance feed from the ICU at Crownwell Royal Hospital. "One phone call, and I'll send your mother down to join that dead traitor. Three. Two."

"I'll drink! Don't touch her!" I screamed and snatched the bottle.

For my mother. And for atonement.

I hoped this would ease Killian's anger.

But my heart broke for my unborn baby. I had hoped it could hold on.

I tipped my head back and drained it in one swallow.

Agony exploded through me, as if I had swallowed a fistful of red-hot blades.

I choked, tears streaming down my face, but I didn't dare stop.

I forced it down until the last burning drop was gone.

The empty bottle rolled across the floor.

I collapsed, cold sweat soaking through me as my wolf howled in agony inside my body.

I lifted my head and looked at Killian through blurred vision.

For a split second, I saw something in his eyes—pain so raw it nearly shattered him.

Then he turned away, avoiding my gaze.

"So you really will debase yourself for atonement."

A stack of dollar bills struck my face. The sharp edges sliced my skin.

"Take the money and clean yourself up." Killian bent down. His voice was icy, yet he still would not meet my eyes. "Tomorrow night is Vivian's birthday banquet."

Vivian Crowne—the daughter of the Beta who had once taken a fatal blade meant for Killian.

"Vivian wants something special. You carry the title of Luna, but your blood belongs to a traitor. Come entertain our benefactor."

His fingers curled into a fist at his side, the joints cracking under the strain.

Vivian.

The woman who had always manipulated old grudges, scheming to replace me as Luna.

So, was this Killian's revenge against me?

"What? You don't want to?" His tone was detached. "If you don't show up, I'll pull your mother's oxygen line."

With that, he turned and strode away. His retreating figure looked almost hurried.

I lay limp on the floor, the liquor still ravaging my stomach.

And yet I started laughing.

Tears streamed down my face as I laughed.

Fine, Killian.

If this was the atonement he wanted, I would give it to him.

When this so-called father's debt was paid in full, I would sever this damned Mate Bond with my own hands.

And set us both free.